Maxioms by Francis Thompson
There is no expeditious road
To pack and label men for God,
And save them by the read more
There is no expeditious road
To pack and label men for God,
And save them by the barrel-load.
Some may perchance, with strange surprise,
Have blundered into Paradise.
Know you what it is to be a child? It is to be something very different from the man of read more
Know you what it is to be a child? It is to be something very different from the man of to-day. It is to have a spirit yet streaming from the waters of baptism; it is to believe in love, to believe in loveliness, to believe in belief; it is to be so little that the elves can reach to whisper in your ear; it is to turn pumpkins into coaches, and mice into horses, lowness into loftiness, and nothing into everything, for each child has its fairy godmother in its own soul.
But lilies, stolen from grassy mold,
No more curled state unfold,
Translated to a vase of gold;
read more
But lilies, stolen from grassy mold,
No more curled state unfold,
Translated to a vase of gold;
In burning throne though they keep still
Serenities unthawed and chill.
The Summer looks out from her brazen tower,
Through the flashing bars of July.
The Summer looks out from her brazen tower,
Through the flashing bars of July.
The immortal could we cease to contemplate,
The mortal part suggests its every trait.
God laid His read more
The immortal could we cease to contemplate,
The mortal part suggests its every trait.
God laid His fingers on the ivories
Of her pure members as on smoothed keys,
And there out-breathed her spirit's harmonies.